


Five Conversations Oliver Remembers (And One He's Waiting For)

by carmen_sandiego



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmen_sandiego/pseuds/carmen_sandiego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is two things: A ‘Five Things’ fic, and a speculative post-Season 9 fic based on brief spoilers and speculation for Season 10 before that season aired. A bit of everything - sexytimes, plot, fluff, angst. </p><p>Originally posted on Livejournal in 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Conversations Oliver Remembers (And One He's Waiting For)

*  
  
**1.**  
  
“Oh, _God_ ,” she breathed again. He bent against her, under the exertion of their release, and the delicious, decadent surprise at finding it with her, of all people, in this place, of all places.  
  
The air between them was still heated, their breaths mingling so close his lips might as well never have left hers.  
  
Once that particular thought entered his mind he couldn’t help but follow through, and he pressed his mouth to hers in a searing, possessive kiss. Their bodies were still slick, still joined, as their heartbeats returned to something approximating normal rhythm.  
  
His lips drifted down, pressing against her neck and her still electric pulse, then her shoulder. She felt like warm silk in his hands, and he was having trouble remembering if this had, in fact, been a part of his plan when he came up to the tower with a bottle of scotch and hauled out his training equipment for no real reason whatsoever.  
  
“That’s what I call target practice,” she said then, and her words were soon followed by laughter, a low, giddy sound beginning deep in her belly. The movement rippled through her and he felt it, too.  
  
He smiled against her skin and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, as his hands grasped the side of her body. For a moment he was inclined to tickle her, but the languorous contentment was too much to pass up just then. He settled for a cheeky “touché.”  
  
“I couldn’t help it. It was too good to pass up, one of us had to say it.”  
  
“You may be right about that.” Her grin was almost too much for him. He knew how she had felt when she walked into the tower earlier that night, and he knew how she felt now, and he knew _he_ was starting to feel very proud of himself indeed.  
  
Finally he slid out of her, planting another kiss on her lips before collapsing next to her. Not for the first time that evening, he was grateful for having spent the extra cash on the plush carpeting that lay beneath them. If he had his way, he was going to make sure they made use of it once more.  
  
She turned towards him, one foot snaking along his leg, one arm drifting to rest against his chest. Without thinking, he grasped her hand in his, in no hurry to leave.  
  
“And that is _definitely_ what I would call a ‘good time,’” she added, a long, relaxing breath escaping her.  
  
“Agreed. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I would have started spending a few late nights here a _lot_ sooner.”  
  
“Apparently I needed a kick in the head from a twelve-year old, of all people.”  
  
“Pardon me?”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “It’s a long story.”  
  
He shrugged. “We’ve got all night. I like long stories.” Something flickered in her expression – a brilliant flash of desire, followed quickly by hesitation, and possibly even confusion. “What is it?”  
  
She sat up slightly, brow furrowed in thought. A blanket had materialized from somewhere, and she pulled at it, letting it scatter over both of them. When she looked back at him it was as though she’d made a decision. “Oliver...with me, one story can turn into a life story pretty darned quickly. Is that really what you’re up for?” She shook her head again. “I’m pretty sure it’s not what you were expecting this evening.”  
  
“I know my reputation doesn’t exactly paint me as a great listener, Chloe. But I can do that pretty well too, if you want me to.”  
  
She smirked back. “I think you’re pretty much capable of anything you want to be, Ollie, that’s not up for debate.”  
  
“So what is? Because I for one see no reason not to repeat what just happened here.”  
  
Her smirk turned into a smile, biting her lip. She leaned back over him, cooling skin flush against his, her breasts pressing against his chest as she settled in his arms. “I think I’m done with stories for now. ‘A good time’ sounds like a much, much better idea.”  
  
“And how,” he asked, pulling her legs astride his hips, moving them both into a sitting position, “are we defining ‘a good time?’” He asked, hands pressing into her hips. “Just so I know I’m doing it right,” he added, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her neck. Selfishly, he was enjoying the way she was responding to him. He wanted nothing more just then than to see how else he could make that might happen.  
  
“No strings,” she exhaled, eyes closing as her head tilted back. “No promises. No complications…”  
  
Her voice faltered on this last one, breath hitching in her throat as Oliver’s mouth trailed lower, nipping at the soft skin under her breast. He felt a flush of heat rise between them as he took the nipple in his mouth, and relished in the gasp that left her. Her fingers grasped at the back of his neck, tightening their hold as far as she could. When he lifted his mouth he felt, more so than heard, the sigh leave her body.  
  
“Just fun,” he said for her.  
  
She looked down at him again, eyes darkening. “That’s all I need.”  
  
Somehow he managed to stand up, pulling Chloe back into his arms just as quickly. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands grasped at her bare thighs.  
  
“You know,” said Chloe, breath warm against his cheek, “there’s a bedroom upstairs. And it’s seen far, far, too little use.”  
  
He didn’t need to be told twice.  
  
  
*  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
  
**000.**  
  
He was expecting the nightmares.  
  
He didn’t expect to have them about her.  
  
Being rescued from Darkseid was the glimmer of hope he’d nearly lost sight of. After returning, he first thought that the worst was behind him, that the pain of being tortured was the worst thing they could do to him.  
  
He knew now he was wrong. Imagining her in their hands made him wish to return instead. He could handle pain – but not hers. Never hers. Once they’d shown him the video footage, he’d been helpless to consider what had happened next.  
  
This was more than he could have prepared himself for.  
  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
*  
  
**2.**  
  
Oddly enough, he hadn’t seen her when he first arrived that evening. He knew her well enough to be surprised not to find her there during what passed for Justice League working hours.  
  
Now that her stockpile had been moved, and was safe again, they both felt more secure. At least, secure when it came to the Kandorian threat. Where exactly the two of them stood with each other, well...He’d rarely managed to spend as many evenings as he had already had with Chloe before moving on or moving out. None of those occasions had ever had the misfortune of mingling with his working life.  
  
He’d pulled open the drawers in his desk, wondering why of all things he couldn’t seem to locate a pen and paper. Did people still leave notes any more? Or perhaps this was text message territory. He wondered exactly what he would put in the text message, anyhow. Somehow he had the feeling ‘booty call’ wasn’t going in the vocabulary any time soon.  
  
“Missing something?”  
  
Oliver turned, straightening to find Chloe’s blond bob glinting in the light, moving towards him. In her hands was a cup of coffee, still steaming hot.  
  
“Ah, no, actually.” He stood, shutting the last drawer. “Not any more.”  
  
She held out the mug towards him, about to say something, and then thought better of it and set it down on the desk. “I made this for you, and then just now when I came in…I realized I didn’t even know if you drink coffee.”  
  
His eyebrows lifted. “You? You who knows everything down to when the oil in my car needs changing and the last time my boots were re-soled?”  
  
“Yeah, so I might have missed a personal detail or two, so sue me.”  
  
“Oh no, frivolous lawsuits aside, I have to say I’m relieved to know I possess some information you don’t have, as minor as it may be.”  
  
“And?”  
  
He shrugged. “And?”  
  
“ _Do_ you drink coffee?”  
  
“Ah,” he smiled, satisfied to be drawing out the tease. “Well, aside from the occasional Sunday morning cappuccino, I’m a pretty much a no-caffiene kind of guy.”  
  
“Well,” she sighed, glancing back at the mug she’d prepared. “I suppose it’s a good thing I make up for that in spades, then.” She glanced back at him for a moment, a nervous smile on her expression.  
  
“Everything okay?” He followed her as she stepped slowly back towards her own station. She folded her arms as she turned back to him, leaning against the desk.  
  
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she admitted. “I mean, now that honesty is the watchword and all.” She lifted her hands briefly, half-jokingly. “Nothing more up my sleeves that I haven’t told you about.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “And I’m glad,” he added, leaning in towards her. “Just remember, we _are_ on the same side.”  
  
“I know,” she repeated back. “I do. At least, I do now.” She sighed. “It’s been hard, rebuilding everything the last few months. I need to be able to control the things I can.”  
  
He swallowed, considering how to proceed. She was vulnerable, pieces of her personal world shimmering through cracks in the walls she’d tried so hard to build around herself. But he knew he was right.  
  
“You know, I’m pretty good at helping out with things like that. If you want to let me.” Coming around next to her, he leaned against the desk and gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. “I can be more than just the money, you know.”  
  
Perhaps in spite of herself, she smiled. “I do know. And...I’m going to try to do better at that. At...trusting. At being part of the team and not just the one organizing it.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
She relaxed slightly, letting her hand rest against his arm for a brief moment. And then, she straightened again, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“You ready to get to work?” she asked.  
  
“Always.” He headed for his arrows.  
  
  
*  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
*  
  
**3.**  
  
Until he got her back to his apartment, he’d been content simply to hold her, walk with her – even the sarcasm veiled as affection was almost enough. ‘Falling for her’, indeed. Checkmate had proven quite a bit more than that to him. Being without her had ceased to be an option.  
  
As soon as they were inside, his lips were on hers before she could make another attempt at putting him in his place. They made it as far as the corridor before removing each other’s clothes, and then his hands were everywhere.  
  
“You don’t ever get to do that again,” he managed, his mouth trailing steaming kisses along Chloe’s throat.  
  
“Do what?...” Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her back finding the cool wall behind her.  
  
“Get kidnapped. Risk yourself like that.”  
  
“So, what…” Chloe breathed, fingers plunging into his hair as he moved lower. “That only gets to be your jo-” she gasped as he pulled her leg up, over his shoulder as he lowered himself in front of her. “Job…” She looked as though she might say something else, but then his mouth found its final target, tasting the soft flesh between her legs. His teeth brushed against the hardening nub and a whimper escaped her then; God help him, he never got tired of hearing that noise. And he knew all of the noises that would follow.  
  
Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, aching for him to continue, but he wouldn’t let her go so easily. Rising, he didn’t let her have time to miss the contact, and he swept her up in both arms.  
  
“Damn right it’s my job,” he said finally. His pulse was climbing, his need for her thrown together with what he now knew as not just fear but anger – that she, she of all people who should know better, had put her own life on the line and hadn’t even brought so much as her taser with her for protection. This wasn’t how it worked. She didn’t get to do that, not on his watch.  
  
He set her down on the bed, lowering himself above her. Her legs opened once more for him, settling her thighs around him.  
  
“Oh, well all right then,” she answered harshly. Her hands found him again, trailing along his chest and down his sides.  
  
When he kissed her this time the same images from the last few hours flashed once more through his mind; He’d felt numb, terrified at the idea he might never be able to touch her again, see her face, hear her voice. He was going to spend all night proving his point if he had too. Hands moving quickly, he plunged two fingers into her, felt himself hardening as she gasped, her inner walls clasping around his fingers.  
  
“Promise me,” he demanded. His voice sounded foreign in his ears, rough yet pleading.  
  
“I…” she started, her body arching in his hands. “Tell me...”  
  
“Promise me you’ll be safe.” His motions quickened, his fingers curled slightly inside of her. “From now on, always.”  
  
“I...I will,” she answered, but hesitation tinged her voice. His pace quickened, and she keened, writhing beneath him, pressing her hips forward. “I need...”  
  
Sweat glistened on her body, between her breasts and along her neck. He knew exactly what she needed – what they both needed just then, but he wasn’t going to make it that simple. He slipped his fingers away from her, planting one hand beside her, the other grasping at her backside.  
  
Her hips bucked towards him as he settled between her legs, tilting himself at her entrance. Before he could move further her hands lifted, clasping at his face. Her eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, her breath shallow when she spoke again.  
  
“I need you to make the same promise,” she said. “Be safe for me.”  
  
For a second they were both still, before he nodded for her, waiting for her approval in the bargain. Now that she had it she kissed him, bringing his mouth to meet hers as though seeking air.  
  
Finally he thrust into her, sheathing himself in her warmth. He bent his head, pressing his forehead beside hers as a moan escaped her – or him, he couldn’t be sure – and her arms closed around his shoulders.  
  
The rest would be said without words.  
  
  
*  
* * * * *  
  
* * * * *  
  
**00.**  
  
By the time Tess resurfaces from whatever personal version of hell was reserved for her, Oliver almost hesitates in forcing his questions upon her. She’s a shell of the formidable woman he once knew. What scares him even more is the thought that this might have been true even long before she was taken, but there’s no time for that. She’s thinner now, and her folded arms press her robe against her as though shielding herself. He pours her a drink as if it would help, but now he doesn’t know if anything would.  
  
“I don’t understand it,” he explains. “Why would they release me and take her instead?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t they?” If she’s surprised at anything, it’s his questions, not the circumstances that brought him here.  
  
He shakes his head. “I’m worth so much money, I’m more visible…If they also knew I was Green Arrow then they’d have to know about—”  
  
“You were a bargaining chip,” she interrupts. “That’s all. A stepping stone to get to her.”  
  
“Watchtower? Is that it? Why wouldn’t they just take it, we were vulnerable for long enough while Zod was active.”  
  
“I can’t help you, Oliver,” before he even has a chance to ask. Her voice is dull. He wonders if this is what sadness sounds like, in her voice. “They’re starting a war. If there’s something in her mind that they need, they won’t stop until they get it.”  
  
The glass of scotch stands untouched on the table in front of her. He sits down on the other sofa, facing her, wishing for some indication of a response from her. She curls her knees towards her body, arms folding closer against her as something turns over in her mind.  
  
“Her mind?” he asks. “They think she knows something?”  
  
She turns, looking him in the eye for the first time. Something like sympathy flickers there, and then is gone again. “You should be talking to Clark. I can’t do anything for you.” She glances away, tired.  
  
Finally it dawns on Oliver. She’s beyond sadness now, he sees. Or sympathy. She’d have to go back, past the death and pain, beyond the brainwashing and the torture, to remember what sadness felt like before. His search for Chloe has already taken him to inner places he’d never wish upon anyone, and when he looks in Tess’s eyes now it’s the closest he’s come to hopelessness. Despair would be too kind a word for her.  
  
After a moment she finally leans forward and takes the glass in her hand. The amber liquid swirls and glints against the light coming from the fireplace.  
  
“If any of Luthorcorp’s assets can help you, they’re yours.”  
  
He nods, then after a moment he stands to leave. The interview is over.  
  
“You’ve been to some pretty dark spots already, Oliver,” she points out unnecessarily. “Where you’re heading is going to get even worse than that, I can guarantee it.”  
  
Another nod. “I know.”  
  
She lifts her gaze to him again, genuinely curious for a moment. “Is she worth it?”  
  
His answer comes without any doubt. “Absolutely.”  
  
She nods back once, slowly, turning again to her scotch. “Then I hope you find her,” she says finally, before finally drinking from the glass.  
  
  
* * * * *  
*  
  
**4.**  
  
“Ollie?”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“You awake?”  
  
“Dunno.”  
  
She chuckled then. Her arm wrapped around his waist as she relaxed against him. He could feel her soft hair beneath his chin, her skin against his. Possessively he pulled his arm closer around her, wanting to feel her snug against him. Blinking, he opened his eyes and saw faint streams of light coming through the windows.  
  
“Let me ask you something,” she said, clearly more awake than he was.  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“You ever thought about kids?”  
  
“Kids?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Oliver let out a breath, rubbing a hand across his face. “Sure. Well, sometimes, if I-” He paused then, quickly alert. “Wait, what?” He was half-sitting all of a sudden, looking right back at her. “You’re not…are you?”  
  
Her chuckle bloomed fully into laughter then, as she brought both hands to his chest. “No, Ollie, I’m not pregnant,” she said, and he visibly relaxed. “But still, good to know where you are with that.”  
  
“Just took me a little by surprise, is all.” This wasn’t the kind of discussion he tended to have on lazy Sunday mornings. He leaned back again against the pillows, his arms wrapping around her as she relaxed against him again. “I wasn’t planning on it any time soon, I have to be honest,” he admitted. “Still, when you’re the billionaire heir and CEO of Queen Industries, you can’t avoid the question forever.”  
  
“Oh dear, poor unfortunate rich man,” she teased. “ _So_ many hard choices.”  
  
“As a matter a fact, there are a lot of hard choices, thank you very much.” He reached around her, teasing her back with a soft pinch just below her breast. She laughed again, and pulled a leg over his, rubbing her foot against his leg.  
  
“Well the question still begs an answer, Mister Heir-and-CEO,” she pointed out.  
  
“Right, the question…”  
  
“Yes, please. Or I’m having cappuccino without you today.”  
  
“Somehow I think that threat would work better on you, Madam Four-Hours-Of-Sleep-A-Night.”  
  
“ _Ollie…_ ”  
  
“Alright, alright, the question, kids…” He let out a breath again, pausing as he genuinely considered his answer. “Sure I think about it. About having children. It’d be harder, given what I do, of course. I mean, I’d want to be around for them, not patrolling every night or working all day while they grow up without me.”  
  
“So is that a ‘yes’? You’d like children?”  
  
“Maybe,” he said. “I’d say it’s a strong ‘maybe’.”  
  
A deep sigh escaped her, and she nodded against his chest. “Okay. That sounds like a reasonable answer.”  
  
“What’s your answer to that question, by the way? Since we’re laying out the cards and all.”  
  
He was surprised to feel her shoulders shift, as though in a brief shrug. “I’m not sure. I used to think it was ‘no’, for a long time. I was going to be a reporter. And then I was going to run Watchtower.”  
  
“What changed?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“You said ‘used to think,’” he repeated back to her. “Something changed?”  
  
She was hesitant for a moment, so much so he nearly sat up again. He ran a hand through her hair, lifting her face to look at his.  
  
“Hey,” he said. “What happened?”  
  
She let out a breath again, as though figuring out how to say it. “Okay,” she said. “The thing is...I had a scare a few weeks ago.”  
  
His brow furrowed. “A scare?”  
  
“A pregnancy scare. I was late. I knew after a few days that I wasn’t, and it was fine, and I went back to business as usual, but…”  
  
“How did I not know about this?”  
  
“You were in Dubai for a week. And then Bart and Victor pulled you off to scout that ship coming out of Helsinki, and by that time…”  
  
“Business as usual.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
They were both sitting up now, at a temporary loss for what to say next.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, sliding one hand down to grasp hers.  
  
It was her turn to look confused. “Sorry?”  
  
“That I wasn’t there. That I didn’t know.”  
  
She shook her head, a conciliatory smile on her face. “There wasn’t anything to know about.”  
  
“Yeah, but there could have been,” he pointed out. “For all we know, there could be again,” he added, and the look on her face immediately made him wish he hadn’t.  
  
Her hand slipped out of his and she stiffened, pulling away nervously. “Ohh, okay…” she said to herself. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up now.”  
  
“Hey, hey,” he reached for her, hands around her waist pulling her back towards him. “It’s alright. We did not just decide something here.”  
  
“I almost wasn’t going to tell you,” she admitted. “I didn’t know where...or what...it would mean for us, and I wasn’t even sure what I thought about it if there was something to think about, and even if-”  
  
He chose that moment to lean in towards her, pressing his lips to hers in a deepening kiss. He felt her lips still underneath his, then relief as they opened to him, his lips and tongue slick across hers. Her hands came to rest around his neck, fingertips sliding into the hair on the nape of his neck.  
  
When they pulled apart she let her forehead rest against his. He brought his hands to her face, lifting her gaze to his one more time.  
  
“I like where we are,” he said. “I still don’t know exactly where _here_ is, but I like it.”  
  
Her smile returned. “I like it too.”  
  
“And I get that this thing a few weeks ago probably scared the hell out of you.”  
  
“Maybe just a bit.”  
  
“It would have scared the hell out of me too.”  
  
She nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“But just in case you were wondering,” he added, “If I had to pick someone to be scared with, I’d pick you in a heartbeat.” He shook his head. “No questions asked.”  
  
“Damnit,” she said, half-under her breath.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That was the perfect answer.”  
  
This time, she kissed him.  
  
*  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
  
**0.**  
  
“Tell me about the Anti-Life Equation.”  
  
Clark appears startled at the sudden entrance, but since Oliver knows his footsteps were probably within his hearing several minutes ago, he guesses it’s the question that takes Clark by surprise and not the fact that he nearly broke down the barn door before asking it.  
  
The Kent farm is desolate now, Clark having given up the pretense of a normal Kansas life around the same time Lois set off for the Kenyan desert without so much as a postcard. Chloe’s disappearance had been a more recent distraction from his current attempts at binding the Justice League against Darkseid’s mission.  
  
“So this is the way it works now, Oliver? We don’t hear from you for weeks at a time, unless there’s information that’s useful to you?”  
  
“Useful to _me_? Do you hear yourself? This is Chloe we’re talking about.”  
  
Clark stiffens. “How did you find out about the A.L.E.?”  
  
“Managed to trace some supply lines well enough to find a few of Darkseid’s facilities. Picked off a couple of his do-gooders and managed to make them talk after a few days.”  
  
Surprise registers on Clark’s face now. “By yourself? Oliver, they could have—”  
  
“Could have what? Tortured me? Locked me up?” He snorts. “Been there done that, or have you forgotten?”  
  
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” Clark’s voice rises slightly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about the equation, I couldn’t risk that they’d use it against you. If you’d been kidnapped again—”  
  
“I don’t care about myself. Just her.”  
  
There’s a pause, as Clark puts down the pages he’s been sorting through. “She said the same thing about you. Before she gave herself up.”  
  
A thousand responses rattle in Oliver’s mind as registers this, and so many that he’s already shouted at Clark so many times that the words have become useless. _You could have stopped her. She didn’t have to trade herself for me. You could have found another way. She’s more important than any of this._  
  
Finally he rubs a hand across his face, re-focussing. “Tell me about the Anti Life Equation,” he demands again.  
  
Clark hesitates again, but this time a response follows. “It’s part of Darkseid’s endgame. We’re still trying to find out the exact composition. But anyone who has it can gain control over human free will. Everyone on Earth would become pawns.”  
  
Oliver shakes his head. “What does that have to do with Chloe?”  
  
“Fragments of the equation are housed in the human subconscious. Chloe’s mind was once taken over by BRAINIAC, and his plans were so much in line with Darkseid’s that we believe now that they are working together. We believe they want her in order to dig through her subconscious mind and eventually rebuild the equation.”  
  
This is so much worse than anything Oliver had been envisioning. The images that this idea is sending through his brain nearly crumple him to his knees.  
  
“It’ll destroy her,” he says finally.  
  
Clark’s expression barely changes, but he nods. It’s enough to convey how much he understands, and how much he knows has already gone terribly, terribly wrong.  
  
“Did she know?” Oliver asks.  
  
“Know what?”  
  
“About the equation. Did she know what she was giving herself up for?”  
  
“You mean, besides your life?”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
Oliver watches confused as Clark takes a moment to respond, and realizes then that it’s because he doesn’t know the answer.  
  
“I’ve been asking myself that for weeks,” he says. “I just don’t know. But we found Dr. Fate’s helmet had been taken, and her fingerprints were on it when it was recovered.”  
  
Something flickers inside Oliver just then, a narrow window of hope. “She saw the future? She saw the future and she gave herself up anyway?”  
  
“It’s possible,” Clark admits, shaking his head. “But we won’t know unless…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Until we find her.”  
  
For a moment Oliver says nothing. The two men face each other, two parties treating before reaching a decision.  
  
“You’re still looking?” He asks, and is heartened that Clark nods an affirmative.  
  
“I won’t stop.”  
  
“Neither will I.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
*  
  
**5.**  
  
In hindsight, that short moment would seem ludicrously simple, almost too easy. He would wonder over many times how things might have gone if he had said exactly what he was thinking, right then. He would replay the eventualities over and over.  
  
He’d managed to get her out for an evening; It was a difficult task on its own, given her propensity for private meetings at the near exclusion of any other sort of rendezvous. But now, what with rebuilding Watchtower, and the coming threat from Zod, he was lucky to see her at all in a personal fashion. He could feel her retreating into her tasks, struggling to come to terms with where they – they – fit into her plan.  
  
They had their regular meeting spot, their regular street across from their regular café. He felt in his pockets for the tickets, hoping she wouldn’t turn him away. The Metropolis Symphony could well have been pushing it too far, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. If it didn’t work, he had at least two other backup plans his mind.  
  
By the time he saw her round the corner the light was starting to fade, but the streetlights hadn’t switched on yet. A few minutes remained before the sunset would disappear completely.  
  
She was pulling a scarf around her neck, her bag hanging from her elbow. She was hurrying, and he knew she’d apologize for being late.  
  
“The new server crashed again,” she said as she reached him, straightening her jacket. “I was already behind schedule anyway but I couldn’t let everything sit dark while I was gone, so I did the best I could.”  
  
He didn’t care. “I’m sure you’ll get it fixed. You always do.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” There’s no arrogance in her voice, just fatigue. “I’m just complaining.”  
  
“Hey, if anyone’s entitled to a few minutes of that, I’d say you win.”  
  
“Well, I’m finished now,” she said, breathing in and then out again, a long sigh of release. She looked up at him. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi back.” His hand lifted to her face, brushing under her chin, holding her expression to his for just a moment.  
  
She was tired, he was worn out, they were both still recovering from the last round of attacks by Zod and Tess. There was nothing about either of their appearances that suggested occasion or fanfare. He was pretty sure she wasn’t even wearing any makeup. He’d barely managed to clean himself up, for that matter.  
  
But when he looked at her just then he knew, so simply and so easily, that there was nothing more that he needed. She was the only woman he wanted to be with; the one he would happily spend the rest of his life with.  
  
He was in love with her. Completely, surprisingly, and without warning.  
  
The moment had gone on longer than normal, and Chloe’s expression shifted, towards concern or confusion. “Something wrong?” She asked gently.  
  
“No,” he responded, head shaking. “Not at all.” The wheels were starting to turn in his mind, as he wondered how and when he would be able to tell her.  
  
Concern changed to relaxed relief. “Good.” She stretched up and planted a kiss on his lips. It was such a brief and comfortable gesture he barely had time to process that she’d never done that before, never shown that kind of affection in public. He breathed easier, turning them to walk in the direction of the city centre.  
  
“So,” she said, one arm sliding around the crook of his. “How are we going to pretend to have a normal evening this time?”  
  
In spite of himself, he laughed. “Thai food?”  
  
“Fantastic. I’m starving.”  
  
“Me too,” he said, and brought his free hand around to touch hers. “Me too.”  
  
  
*  
* * * * *  
* * * * *  
  
**1.**  
  
Oliver’s finally standing in the emptied remnants of the third Darkseid facility he’s tracked down, eyes scanning the ground for footprints, forgotten equipment, any trace at all that he’s on the right track. He finishes with one room and moves on to the next, moving deeper and deeper into what he now knows is the same place he was kept captive just months ago. He hopes beyond explanation that she hasn’t been made to know the same torture as him, tries not to allow himself to think that this might still be the milder version of how this story ends. _If she’s still alive._  
  
He punctuates the forced dispersal of that thought by drawing his sidearm and destroying the next lock. The doors are getting more solid the farther he goes, and if he had time to be pleased with himself for managing to disable the electronic surveillance system on his own, he’d be grinning right now. As things stand now, it’s clear the security system would have been far from a stumbling block. The building was vacated hours ago. _How close was I?_  
  
The next corridor is long, and dark, and his eyes take a moment to adjust. It’s familiar now, the scent of the air around him hits the memory centre in his brain like a targeted missile and all of a sudden he knows exactly where he is. Before he has time to fish the night vision goggles out of his pack he’s running, half-seeing, to a door three metres from the end of the row, the fifth door on the left. Without hesitating he slams his shoulder against the hard metal, as he’s done for many doors, many times before this one. The latch gives way freely, just as he raises his weapon, ready to fire at no one at all.  
  
A musty silence greets him, and he kicks at the scuffed concrete floor. The few pieces of furniture in the room are the same he remembers, right down the table’s edge where they’d slammed his wrist against it – so many times - and the restraint chair where they’d held him down. The very idea of Chloe being made to suffer the same as he had, previously kept at bay as a fleeting nightmare, now materializes in the reality front of him. Anger surges in him, fighting with the emotions that have kept him going this far.  
  
Scanning the room, he searches for anything to prove him wrong; He wonders if it would comfort him to know she hadn’t been here at all, even if it would mean starting searching her trail all over again. And then it catches his eye, a small glimmer in his peripheral vision before he turns away and out of the room forever.  
  
Oliver crouches to pick it up, thrilled and terrified at the confirmation the little button provides. He knows it’s hers, knows the exact jacket it came from. He remembers her wearing it on the last day he laid eyes on her. Images flash in front of him, of her clothes being torn apart, of her pulling away the button on purpose, of the threads of her clothing giving way as rough hands torture her. Standing, he swallows at the knot in his throat, struggling to make sense of the small detail. Fear slices through him – _what have they done to her_ \- and is followed quickly by terror – _they could have planted it, it may all be a lure, you don’t know..._  
  
He pockets the button. It’s the closest he’s come, now, and he’s not stopping. His body feels as though he could sleep for a year, his mind is starting to falter. But it’s a small well of hope that he clings to as he takes his weapon again and retraces his steps back out through the building. Belief that he is doing the right thing. In his mind he returns to the same conversation he’s been having with her ever since the radio fell from his hands and Darkseid pulled them apart; The same things he has to tell her, over and over again:  
  
_I love you.  
  
I need you.  
  
You belong beside me, always. _  
  
He makes it back outside all too quickly. The grey skies are as blinding as sunlight now.  
  
He keeps running.  
  
  
* * * * *

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and kudos are gratefully cherished.


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